Draymond Green is as certain as they come. The man is barely scraping 6 foot 6 without shoes on and has bullied his way into a surefire Hall of Fame induction with an internal belief of legend. He’ll go down in history for his role in the Golden State Warriors’ small-ball style and his ability to match up against much bigger players.
Green has done this on toughness. On grit. On basketball IQ. On psychological warfare. And he’s convinced, especially with his accrued basketball wisdom, that he can have his way against just about every center in the NBA.
“Maybe not Joker.”
Green, perennially stingy with his praise, said it with no shame. Game recognizes game. Those who play understand his quality. The question is whether those who watch are fully comprehending the brilliance of Nikola Jokić.
But the man is unbelievable. Perhaps this is the consequence of an era with LeBron James, Stephen Curry and Kevin Durant. Basketball society is too accustomed to the presence and spectacle of greatness to be adequately impressed by its latest ambassador.
We’re going to pay for this later. The discourse will own us if we don’t get this correct.
It’s becoming clear that we’ll need a good explanation. It’d be prudent to begin working on our messaging, crafting a narrative that will land with our children and grandchildren. We’ve been through this enough times now to know how this goes. The future won’t believe us.
Just like Gen X didn’t believe Wilt Chamberlain, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and Jerry West were as good as our forefathers claimed. Just like millennials believe Michael Jordan dominated a league of plumbers and accountants moonlighting as hoopers, Karl Malone was but a model for cowboy calendars and Clyde Drexler a middle school PE teacher who wore sweatpants with no pockets.
Imagine the pending derision of Jokić. That he was a giant in a league of small ball. That he only could thrive in an era of pace and space and no defense. That the league couldn’t be that good if the best player couldn’t conjure muscle definition.
And we won’t have the words to explain. Just facial expressions and sighs of exasperation. Because awe is a non-verbal language.
The future won’t believe us about Jokić.
His numbers won’t do us any favors, either, because they don’t make sense. They inspire skepticism more than reverence. They aid the cynical critic more than the zealous witness.
It’s been five days since Jokić malfunctioned the stat counter with 31 points, 21 rebounds and 22 assists. Even more mind-blowing than his stat line, the first of its kind in NBA history, is how quickly it evaporated from our consciousness.
Jokić has so normalized ridiculousness as to desensitize the present community from appropriate reverence. He’ll need six MVPs and 10 championships and a five-minute highlight reel of epic moments to help those who didn’t experience him to process his elitism.
This reminds me of March 28, 1995. Jordan dropped 55 points in Madison Square Garden, his fifth game after returning from baseball. It was memorable because of how it was coined. For days afterward, the talk was about Jordan’s “double-nickel” at the Garden. The phrase landed in my teenage mind as ridiculous. A double-nickel is a dime. Not 55. But the phrase was inescapable for what felt like weeks.
The context of Jordan was much different. The media landscape was certainly different. A lot went into why that was the biggest deal in the world. But the main ingredient was how much everybody understood the amazingness on display.
Is that true with Jokić? Do we fully understand what is being witnessed? Yeah, he’s tucked away in Denver. The talent around him isn’t the most premium. And the vibes suggest he’d much rather be with his horses in Serbia than drawing attention to his preeminence in the States.
With our history of inability to appreciate generational gaps, this is going to be a tough sell. It proved difficult to grasp live. Now imagine the task after narrative has its way with this era as soft, 3-point dominant and marred by superstars who don’t play every night.
But Jokić, an almost 7-footer with obscured athleticism, is unguardable. He’s the best and most creative passer in the league, thanks largely to an elite IQ, and yet he tempers his brilliance with his nonchalance. He shoots better than most guards, runs the point in clutch situations and somehow is even better in the paint than a traditional back-to-the-basket center.
The way he counters every defensive scheme. The way he shows up, runs all day and developed strengths on defense — weaknesses once putting a ceiling on his game. The way he feels the game, responds to challenges and savors competing. He’s incredible. But saying something is incredible doesn’t pack the same revelatory punch it once did. Not when superlatives are doled out more freely than Smarties on Halloween. We need a new way to encapsulate him.
For sure, something gets lost in translation in the oral tradition of sports. And the highlight culture still hasn’t solved it. Numbers get passed down. Video gets passed down. Stories get passed down. But one thing is tough to convey through any of that.
Inevitability.
It’s still difficult to impress on people who weren’t there how unstoppable a player felt. How his peers were so certain their resistance was futile that their ego didn’t bother bruising. How dominant they felt against all other versions of dominance.
Remember when DeMar DeRozan offered $100 to anybody who could stop LeBron? Remember when Durant declared, “You know who I am,” and everybody just nodded in agreement? We’ve heard defenders and coaches for years declare their fear of Curry.
NBA greats are some of the most confident humans on the planet. They fervently gatekeep entrance to their exclusive fellowship. For them to declare the unequivocal excellence of Jokić is a most certified stamp of approval.
“He’s one of the best players to ever play this game. It’s that simple.”
LeBron James said this last April.
“He does everything. The most important thing is he changes the way his teammates think about their own play,” James continued. “When you’re able to inspire your teammates to play at a level that sometimes they don’t even feel like they can play at, that’s a true testament of a great one.”
Jokić is one of them ones. Not just a great player. Not just a Hall of Famer. But a guy who in 20 years when we’re talking about the best ever, his name will be mentioned. Because we’ll be mentioning him.
And it won’t be enough if we just roll our eyes, shake our heads and throw up our hands in disbelief. Nobody will believe us.
(Illustration: Demetrius Robinson / The Athletic; Photos: Matthew Stockman, Ronald Martinez / Getty Images)
